


Secret Smile

by My_Young_Friend



Category: House M.D.
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-24
Updated: 2009-11-24
Packaged: 2017-10-03 16:26:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/My_Young_Friend/pseuds/My_Young_Friend
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bribery, lust, cancer-kids and Nurse Brenda.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Secret Smile

 

"If Cuddy is stripping why can't I do my comedy routine?"

 

"3 reasons: firstly Cuddy isn't stripping, she's dancing. Salsa or something"

 

"I remember the last time I saw Cuddy dancing. Her top finished up hanging off the end of a frat pledge paddle."

 

"Secondly, comedy implies humour. Insulting members of the audience is only funny if you're joking. And thirdly, your routine is so offensive even Damien Hirst called to complain"

 

"Really? He call… oh you!" House's patented fake-believing skit didn't faze Wilson in the slightest.

 "So what are you doing - racing cancer kids in wheelchairs?"

"And this is why you're not allowed to do comedy. Actually I'm singing."

"You're what? You can't sing."

 

"I've been complimented on my voice many times"

 

"By anyone you weren't sleeping with?"

 

"_House_" Wilson's voice held a hint of warning.

 

"Anyway, whether you can sing or not is irrelevant; you _don't_ sing."

 

"Yes I do"

 

"In all the time we've known each other I have never heard you sing."

 

"In all the time we've known each other you've never seen me lecture; does that mean I don't do that either?"

 

"Philosophically speaking…"

 

"Oh stop. The hospital has a baby grand that Brenda is using for accompaniment. Why don't you play that?"

 

"Hold on, Brenda? As in 'Satan is my bitch' Nurse Brenda? From the Clinic?"

 

"Yes. Apparently she's quite an accomplished magician."

 

"I've noticed. Any doctor going within ten feet of her finds their testicles have disappeared. Not even David Blaine can do that. Although I'm sure it's only a matter of time."

 

"Even the female doctors?" Wilson smiled in an amused fashion.

 

"Yup, she's _that_ good."

 

"Then why don't you show her up? Get a little revenge?"

 

"As a wise woman once wrote "Draco dormiens nunquam titilandus". Wilson's eyes rolled at the Harry Potter quote.

 

"Then there's the big reason: I don't care. The only reason I'm doing this is for 3 blissful Cuddy-free days and a week off clinic duty. Oh and the added incentive of what you promised would be 'the most mind-blowing sex known to man'"

 

"I don't believe you."

 

"You said those exact words a week and a half ago."

 

"No" Wilson said patiently "I don't believe you don't care. You always have to be better than everyone else; you have to show people up. Now that you've said you'll do this show your act _has_ to be better than anyone else's. You couldn't bear not to win; you're too competitive."

 

"Hey, maybe you should psychoanalyse innocent members of the audience as part of your act."

 

Wilson looked to the ceiling, and sighed. He started to walk towards the elevator before shouting back to House. "No comedy routine!"

 

 

 

 

 

House stepped onto and off the stage without uttering a word. In between, the haunting strains of Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata flowed around the room. Even for those who knew House well enough, such a public performance was a surprise. And for five and a half minutes he held their rapt attention.

 

His fingers ghosted over the keys of the baby grand. It wasn't his favourite piece, or the most complicated he knew. But he had judged his audience. They would be more affected by this piece than by Rachmaninoff or Chopin. And there was a perverse appropriateness in playing a deaf man's music to people generally too ignorant to know their Brahms from their Bach. House wasn't one of the awestruck sycophants that worshipped Beethoven's triumph over adversity. He did his job and did it well and that was all that mattered.

 

As he walked off in silence there was no applause like there was for Cuddy or Wilson or any of the other acts. House was glad for this. Applause was the perfect example of peer pressure in action and the falsity of it all grated on him like a mis-keyed note. He knew he wouldn't win and frankly he didn't care. He'd done more than anyone else that night. He'd silenced every detractor, every backbiter and every two-faced flatterer in that crowd.

 

While he passed through the throng of people backstage he searched out one face. Not, for a change, to be smug; not even for vindication. Instead he was looking for something. He could never admit to himself what it meant, but he looked for it all the same. And he found it. That smile; the one no-one ever got to see apart from him. It was there, just briefly on Wilson's lips as he caught the other man's eye at last. And House smiled his own in return, his secret smile: head bowed, eyes cast downwards and so brief that a casual observer might think they had imagined it. It was only a flash but Wilson caught it. He breathed in deeply and resumed his conversation with an OB/Gyn dressed as a clown. A contented smile crept across his face. Across the room, House hit the backstage bar, glaring at any poor soul unfortunate enough to cross his path.

 

 

 

 

"It was a fix. The judges were all too terrified _not_ to vote for her."

 

"Well it was an impressive trick"

 

"The finale? Amateurish, I could practically hear Copperfield turning in his grave"

 

"I wasn't talking about that and David Copperfield isn't dead."

 

"He's not? Shame. What were you talking about then?"

 

"Making all 8 judges' balls disappear simultaneously." Wilson deadpanned.

 

House laughed. This was not his usual smile and nod laugh but a full on wake-the-neighbours-and-set-dogs-barking convulsion. Wilson couldn't help but join in, mentally blaming the excessive amounts of alcohol imbibed before and after his performance.

 

By the time they reached House's apartment each man was using the other for support, with House periodically waving his cane around for emphasis and sending them both stumbling to one side of the sidewalk or another. As he began to open the door he stopped.

 

Turning back to face his companion he said as slyly as the alcohol in his system would allow, "I hope you're intending to hold up your end of the bargain Doctor Wilson."

 

"The bargain? What bargain?" Wilson smiled innocently. Even when sober he could never quite pull that look off and seeing him try now only exacerbated House's merry-and-stoned state. Shoulders shaking with laughter, he turned back to tackle his increasingly complex front door lock.

 

Hot breath caressed his ear as Wilson whispered "If you don't get that door open, I'll start right here." As if to emphasise the point, House felt a hand snake under his shirt and make its way around his waist in what could only be called a southerly direction. A very definitely southerly direction.

 

The lock finally clicked as House wrenched the door open and dragged Wilson inside, both of them drunkenly laughing like teenagers. As the door slammed shut, Mrs Bernstein in the flat above tutted and shook her head. Reaching for her ear plugs she settled back down beneath her electric blanket. "Silly young men" she murmured as she fell back asleep.

A/N: Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titilandus - 'Never tickle a sleeping dragon', the motto of Hogwarts


End file.
